


Signs as Declarations of Love

by benjji2795



Series: Signs as Declarations of Love [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, M/M, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 22:46:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6213220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benjji2795/pseuds/benjji2795
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life and times of the <em><strong>"Yo marry me Jack Zimmermann"</strong></em> sign</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs as Declarations of Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, originally, when I saw [this post](http://wet-wellie.tumblr.com/post/140698066276/concept-every-time-the-samwell-team-goes-to-see), I was totally like, "I have to write this post into a full fic!" And then I started writing and I got...not that :P Instead I got this fic, and it was heavily, _heavily_ inspired by that post, but it's not based on it.
> 
> This was not beta-ed, so any mistakes you catch, please let me know! :)

**i. Shitty**

“Why did you have to bring  _that_?” Eric whines as they walk into Providence Municipal Arena.

 

 _That_ , of course, was a particular sign that had been, perhaps, the source of Eric’s most mortifying moment with Jack.  It said “Yo marry me Jack Zimmermann,” and when someone brought it to their Valentine’s Day game last year, Shitty had gone out of his way to obtain it.  He paid the person who made it $30 just to get it.  Then, he had asked Eric to take it up to his room, which he had stupidly agreed to.  When Jack then popped into Shitty’s room while brushing his teeth to see Eric standing there with the sign, Eric had wanted to sink through the floor.  He wanted nothing more for the sign to be destroyed, but instead, Shitty had insisted on bringing it to their first Falconers game.

 

“Bits, brah,” Shitty grins wickedly.  “This sign is a motherfucking  _treasure_  that has to be shared.”

 

“No it don’t,” Eric grumbles, briefly wondering if he can pretend he doesn’t know Shitty.  But between Eric’s Samwell jersey (Jack’s old one) and Shitty’s Samwell Men’s Hockey t-shirt, there’s no way anyone would believe him if he tried.

 

“You know who should be the one sharing this fucking beaut?” Shitty asks, smirking mischievously.

 

“Who?” Eric says innocently.

 

“You.”

 

Eric starts coughing, choking on his own spit.   _“No!”_

 

“Oh c’mon Bits,” Shitty says, gently smacking Eric with the poster.  “You’re his literal fucking boyfriend!”

 

“I’m not—” Eric pauses, swiveling his head around to check if anyone is paying attention to their conversation.  “We haven’t even been dating for six months!  I’m not holding up a sign that asks him to marry me!”

 

“ _Chill_  Bitty,” Nursey says.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think he would actually think you were asking him to marry you!” Chowder chimes in.

 

“Besides, let’s be fucking real brah,” Shitty says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.  “I know Jack, and he’s already planning to marry you someday.”

 

“Good  _Lord_ ,” Eric squeaks.  “We ain’t even…”  When four pairs of eyes immediately hone on him, chirps at the ready, Eric swallows his words.  “He’s not thinkin’ about that yet y’all, trust me.”

 

“What haven’t you done yet?” Ransom questions, eyes twinkling.

 

“We ain’t been on a date yet.  Jeez, y’all need to—”

 

“Chill?” Nursey says, grinning.

 

“I was gonna say get y’all’s heads outta the gutter, but that ain’t too far off either,” Eric sighs, putting his head down as he walks to his seat.

****************************************************************************************************

The first time arena fancam starts up, Shitty leaps to his feet and waves the sign over his head wildly, screaming as loud as he can.  Eric covers his eyes and shies away from him.  Thankfully, it’s not long before play starts up again, and Shitty has to sit back down, and the damage is limited to just those sitting around them.

 

“Is it too late to change my ticket?” Eric inquires, asking no one in particular.

 

“Yep brah.  Wayyyyyy too late,” Shitty chuckles.

 

“You’re stuck with us bro,” Holster says, slinging an arm around Eric’s shoulders.

 

“Why do I put up with y’all?” Eric mumbles, pulling his hat low over his eyes.

 

“Aww c’mon Bits, you love us,” Ransom coos, sprawling across Holster’s lap to mess with Eric’s hat.

 

“Don’t be so sure ‘bout that,” Eric says, but he’s grinning.

 

“Ouch, you wound me bro,” Holster replies, clutching his heart.

 

Eric laughs.  “Alright fine, I love y’all so much, but I ain’t gonna say that y’all ain’t annoyin’ sometimes.”

 

“I’ll take it man.”

****************************************************************************************************

Around the third time the arena has fancam, during warmups between the second and third period, as Shitty’s going through his nutty routine again, Ransom and Holster jump up and start shouting along with him because  _dear God, **Shitty is on the jumbotron**_.

 

The crowd is cheering louder than it has all game, and the Falconers’ players all stop and look up at the screen to see what’s going on.  One of them goes over and nudges Jack, who’s still thoroughly engrossed in warming up.  When Jack looks up at the screen, Eric sees his shoulders shaking gently as he starts to laugh.

 

He stops what he’s doing and scans the arena, locating them and skating over to the glass.

_“I love you Jack Zimmermann!”_  Shitty screams at the top of his lungs.

 

Jack smiles and shouts back “Love you too Shits!”  Then he blows Shitty an exaggerated kiss, before turning and skating off.

 

Eric giggles uncontrollably while Shitty whoops, getting high fives from everyone around them.

* * *

 

**ii. Ransom and Holster**

Eric hoped that Shitty’s appetite would’ve been appeased after that first game.  And maybe it was; Eric’s not sure.  At the very least, when they went to another game two weeks later, Eric thought he was safe.  Shitty wasn’t going with them, too busy being murdered by his Harvard midterms, so he figured the sign wouldn’t be making an appearance.

 

He was proved wrong as they unloaded from Holster’s Civic outside the arena, because he pulled it out of the trunk just before they started walking up.  Eric sighs deeply.

 

“Shitty gave it to me last time I visited him.  Told me they wanted their chance with it,” Lardo says, patting him on the shoulder as she walks by.

 

“Lardooooo,” Eric whines.  “Did you have to?”

 

“Yeah.  Sorry Bits.”

 

“You ain’t sorry at all,” Eric harrumphs, observing the small smirk on Lardo’s face.

 

“You’re right, I’m not,” Lardo grins.

 

“I don’t understand why y’all are so obsessed with that sign,” Eric asks in a huff when they catch up with the rest of the group.

 

“Just let it go,” Lardo advises as Ransom and Holster fall in step beside Eric.

 

“If you start singing bro, I’m going to kill you,” Ransom says to Holster over Eric’s head.

 

“You’re being a killjoy man,” Holster groans.

 

“If you start, I won’t be able to get it out of my head for a week bro.  A  _week_.”

 

“Whatever man,” Holster waves Ransom off.  “Anyway, so Bits.”

 

“Shits told us we gotta offer you first dibs on the sign,” Ransom says, throwing an arm around Eric’s shoulders.

 

“I ain’t touchin’ that poster with a ten foot pole,” Eric retorts.  It’s only been two weeks since the last game, and Eric’s reasons for not wanting the poster are the same.  Ask him in a year, and it might be different, but for now, he’s not going to hold that thing if you paid him.

 

“Alright fine,” Holster shrugs.

 

“Suit yourself,” Ransom adds.

 

They look at each other over Eric’s head.  “Dibs!” they both shout at the same time.

 

“No way man,” Ransom cries.  “Canadian bros get dibs!”

 

“Yeah, but Jack has a thing for blondes,” Holster grins, looking down at Eric.  “C’mon Bits, back me up here.”

 

“I am not goin’ to be a part of this,” Eric squeaks, ducking out from under Ransom’s arm.  He stops and hangs back to walk the rest of the way with Lardo, watching as Ransom and Holster fight over the sign the whole time.

 

Lardo sighs as they continue to bicker all the way to their seats.  “Why don’t you just do it together?” she suggests.

 

Ransom and Holster’s eyes light up as they glance at each other.

 

“BROOOO!” they yell, high fiving each other.

 

“Somebody get some paper!” Holster demands.

 

“And a marker!” Ransom shouts.

 

They haven’t even finished asking when Lardo shoves both into their hands.

 

“Best manager ever bro,” Holster grins, balancing the poster on Ransom’s back, using it as a hard surface to write on the paper.

 

When he’s done, Lardo hands them a piece of tape, and the sign becomes “Yo marry  _us_  Jack Zimmermann”.

 

“Bro, this is gonna be ‘swawesome!” Holster yells excitedly.

****************************************************************************************************

The sign ends up on the jumbotron immediately, and Jack turns around from where he’s sitting on the bench to look at them, just a few rows back.

 

He laughs and shakes his head.  “No way am I coming in between your already-perfect marriage,” Jack shouts over the glass, the corner of his mouth turned up in such a way that says he’s chirping them.

 

But when Ransom and Holster hesitate, side-eyeing each other, Jack arches an eyebrow questioningly.  A teammate taps his shoulder and Jack shrugs, hopping over the boards onto the ice for his shift.

 

It’s—strange that Ransom and Holster wouldn’t have a comeback chirp, and after nearly a minute, they’re  _still_  staring at each other, and Eric wonders what their stunned inaction means, until it dawns on him…

 

“Oh  _Lord_ , you  _are_  married!” Eric gasps in shock, covering his mouth with his hands.

 

“Umm,” Ransom stammers, biting his lip.  He’s looking over at Holster, a pleading look in his eye, but Holster is frozen in place, not doing anything to give Ransom support.   _“Holtzy!”_  Ransom whispers harshly, shaking Holster’s shoulder.

 

“Yes!” Holster blurts out suddenly.

 

From there, it’s absolute pandemonium, the entire Samwell hockey team making a terrible ruckus, hooting and whooping and shouting things along the lines of “you’re  _married_?”, “why fuck didn’t you tell anyone?” and also “when the fuck did that happen?”

 

In the middle of it all, Ransom slings an arm around Holster’s waist and pulls him into his side.  They both look—like kind of frightened, so Eric nudges Lardo.  Lardo gives him a questioning look and Eric quirks his head towards the boys in response.  Lardo follows the motion and nods.

 

“Yo, everyone shut the fuck up!” she shouts over the din.  Everyone stops shouting and settles down, but all eyes are still on Ransom and Holster.

_“When?”_  Eric asks as the silence stretches on, his curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“It happened by accident,” Holster mumbles, his cheeks flushing scarlet.

 

“Spring break, sophomore year,” Ransom adds quietly.

 

Eric wracks his brain for what happened that year and—oh Lord, he’s having a hard time not giggling.  “Was—wasn’t that—when you went to Vegas?” Eric says, his laughter bubbling out towards the end, because  _of course_.  If anyone was going to get married in Vegas by accident, Lord knows it would’ve been those two.

 

Holster nods.  “We got super schwasted and…well…y’know…it just happened.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Eric sees Dex’s eyes go wide, apparently a step behind the group.  “You got married?  In  _Vegas_?” he exclaims.

 

“Dex,  _chill_ ,” Nursey says, because Dex is honestly a little too worked up now that the realization has hit him.

 

“But if you did it in Vegas, how do you know it’s real?” Chowder inquires.  “My parents had friends that went to Vegas and apparently came back married, but they didn’t like, fill the license out correctly or something and so it wasn’t real.  Maybe that’s what happened to you!”

 

“We had Shits check it out,” Ransom shrugs.  “It’s all legit man.”

 

“That fucker,” Lardo mumbles under her breath so only Eric can hear her.

 

“We were going to like, get a divorce right away but then…like…” Holster starts to say.

 

“We kinda realized we didn’t want to,” Ransom finishes.

 

“Cause like…Ransom’s hella handsome and shit and…we were already meant to be like best bros forever so it was like…why not, y’know?” Holster explains, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“Wait, then why did y’all wait so long to say somethin’,” Eric asks, because it’s been almost a year and a half and they haven’t said a word.

 

“We thought everyone had already figured it out,” they answer at the same time.

 

“Yeah, we’re literally wearing rings,” Holster says as they both hold up their hands for everyone to see.

 

“What did you think they were?” Ransom questions, his brow furrowing.

 

“I don’t know!” Eric replies.  “Y’all do all kinds of weird things that y’all say are just ‘bro things’.  I thought they were like, I don’t know, broship rings or somethin’.”

 

“Oh Bits,” Holster chuckles.

 

“Oh Lord, I don’t even have a pie ready for y’all!” Eric exclaims suddenly, setting off a round of raucous laughter in the group.

****************************************************************************************************

“You guys made a lot of noise after I went on the ice,” Jack says when Eric meets him at his car after the game.

 

“Well, it ain’t every day you find out two of your teammates have been married for a year and a half without sayin’ a word,” Eric shrugs.

 

“… _merde_ , you mean they really are married?” Jack asks, looking flabbergasted.

 

“Yeah,” Eric chuckles.  “That’s why we were all makin’ such a racket.”

 

“Wow,” Jack whispers.  Then, after a second says “Vegas?”

 

“Uh-huh,” Eric nods.

 

“Of course they did,” Jack responds as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

 

“I was thinkin' the same thing!”

* * *

 

**iii. Nursey**

After that night, the sign is cemented as a tradition among the Samwell Hockey team.  They don’t go to a game without it.  Eric slowly starts to get over his embarrassment of sitting near the guys when they go berserk.  But he still doesn’t dare to have anything to do with the sign himself.

 

After Ransom and Holster, it passes to Lardo, Chowder, Ollie, Wicks, and then Mark Case, or Casey, one of the tadpoles.  Jack acknowledges them every time, either with a wave, or an imaginary cap tip.  Jack enjoys it, and has mentioned to Eric how amusing the Falconers find it.  It’s a fun little gag, and other than the intense argument over whose turn it is, it doesn’t cause much trouble.  Eric, despite himself, is starting to grow a little fond of the sign.

 

Except, then it’s Nursey’s turn to hold the poster, and it  _does_  cause trouble.  And to no one’s shock or surprise, it’s Dex who stirs things up.

 

“I don’t even get why you want to do this,” Dex grumbles, a scowl making deep lines in his forehead.

 

“It’s team tradition man,” Nursey says nonchalantly.  “Get with program, Poindexter.”

 

“But it’s  _stupid_ ,” Dex argues.

 

“Don’t be jealous, you’ll get your turn soon enough,” Nursey chirps, making Dex flush darkly.

 

“Who says I want to?” Dex replies challengingly, clenching his fists at his sides.

 

“That’s your choice man.  I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” Nursey shrugs.

 

As they file into their row of seats, Eric quickly squeezes in between the d-men.  If he has to witness any fights tonight, Eric would rather they take place on the ice between the players, not between two of his friends and members of his team (not that he wants any of the Falconers to get in any fights).

 

Sitting between them doesn’t do much to stop Dex from glaring at Nursey every time he hops around with the poster in his trademark  _chill_  manner.  He’s on the jumbotron every time, but it’s not until the fourth time that Jack notices it, smiling and tipping his imaginary hat to Nursey.  Nursey winks in response, and next to him, Eric can practically feel the steam pouring out of Dex’s ears.

 

“It’s just a sign man.  It’s fun, so like,  _chill_ ,” Nursey sighs as he falls back into his seat.

 

Eric crawls over the back of his chair into the lap of some random man behind him.  Once Nursey told Dex to chill, all bets were off as to what happened next.  Eric did not want to be in the middle of it.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, standing up.

 

“I’ve got friends like that,” the man smiles sympathetically.  “I know the feeling.”

 

Eric waves at the man and walks back around, stopping short of where Nursey’s sitting as their argument starts to pick up speed.

 

“…you’ve never had a problem with it before man.”

 

“But you’re literally asking Jack to marry you!” Dex exclaims, springing to his feet.

 

Nursey slowly stands up, momentarily blocking Eric’s view.  “So?  That a problem man?”  His voice sounds calm, but his words are slow and measured, like Dex has struck a nerve and Nursey is struggling to keep his composure.

 

“Yeah!” Dex answers, and Eric notices a twitch in Nursey’s shoulder.  Eric grabs his arm, not wanting him to take a swing at Dex.

 

“It’s okay Bits,” Nursey says, looking at Eric over his shoulder.  “I’ve got it under control.”

 

“I just don’t want to see you gettin’ into a fight here,” Eric says, maintaining his grip.

 

“ _Chill_. We won’t,” Nursey shrugs.  Eric lets go and Nursey turns back towards Dex, taking a small step forward.  “So, you saying you got a problem with a dude marrying another dude?”

 

“Oh fuck off, of course I don’t!” Dex says growling through gritted teeth, shoving Nursey back.  “We’ve been through this.  I’m not.  A.  Homophobe!”

 

“I don’t know man, you sound an awful lot like one,” Nursey retorts, crossing his arms as he continues to step closer to Dex.

 

“How many times am I going to have to tell you I’m not?!” Dex responds exasperatedly.

 

“However many times it takes for you to tell me what your problem really is,” Nursey quips, taking one last step.  There’s hardly any space between the two boys now, and Eric senses a strange feeling charging the air around them.  He doesn’t want to identify what it feels like, for risk of being horribly wrong, but regardless, it’s almost unbearable.

 

“Okay fine!  You really wanna know?” Dex barks, shouting even though they’re only separated by inches.

 

“Lay it on me, Poindexter,” Nursey replies coolly.

 

“My problem is with  _you_  holding it, asking Jack to marry  _you_!” Dex answers.

 

Jack is back on the bench, looking back at what’s happening.  He catches Eric’s eye, giving him a questioning look, and Eric shrugs.  He doesn’t really have a good grasp of what’s unfolding in front of him.

 

“Yo Dex, Bits isn’t offended by it, just  _chill_ ,” Nursey sighs.

 

“You’re a real dumbass, you know that right?”

 

Nursey shrugs his shoulders.  “I’ve been told once or twice.  It’s still a stupid reason to be upset man.”

 

“It’s not about Bitty, or Jack!” Dex yells angrily.  “It’s about you.  Marrying anyone!”

 

“Oh har har,” Nursey fake chuckles.  “It’s because no one could ever stand me, right?  You’re a real comedian, Poinde—”

 

Eric breathes in sharply, and he catches Jack mouthing “woah.”

 

“Holy shit dude,” Holster whispers to Ransom.

 

“I know bro,” Ransom mumbles back.   _“Holy.  Shit.”_

 

Eric rubs his eyes, checking to see if there’s anything in them, because he’s not sure if he truly believes what he’s seeing.

 

Dex had grabbed Nursey’s face mid-sentence and is now kissing him.   _Hard_.  Everyone is stunned by what’s happening—Nursey apparently included.  He’s standing stock-still.  It doesn’t look like he’s responding to Dex at all which— _Lord_ , that’s not going to be good, at all.

 

“Whatever man,” Dex mutters, breaking the kiss after a few seconds.  He turns on his heel and walks down the aisle, towards the stairs that will take him out onto the concourse.

Eric— _goodness_ , he can’t even  _begin_  to understand what just took place, but he knows that Nursey can’t let Dex just walk off.  He nudges Nursey gently, pushing him in the direction Dex walked off.  Nursey jerkily jolts back to life.

 

He begins clumsily weaving his way around the people still seated, chasing after Dex as fast as his uncoordinated limbs will let him.  Miraculously, he doesn’t fall on anyone or elbow anyone on his way down the aisle, and he bolts up the stairs, catching Dex just before he disappears into the concourse.

 

He grabs Dex’s arm, and Dex turns around and jumps, looking (as best Eric can tell from as far away as he is) genuinely shocked that Nursey followed him.  There’s a moment of intense staring, and then Nursey pushes Dex back into the wall and starts kissing him back.

 

The entire section of fans, having been watching intently the whole time, erupts in cheers.

 

Jack shakes his head, grinning slightly as he points to the sign and mouths to Eric “Again?”

 

Eric laughs and shrugs his shoulders.  “I guess so!” he shouts.

 

Jack gives him a thumbs up before he turns and climbs over the boards.

* * *

 

**iv. Eric**

It’s not until almost the end of Jack’s second year in the NHL that Eric takes his turn with the sign.

 

“Jack?” Eric says while they’re in the kitchen of Jack’s apartment, just before Jack has to leave to join the team for pre-game.

 

“Hmm?” Jack hums in reply, looking up from his camera.

 

“So you know the boys are coming to tonight’s game,” Eric continues hesitantly.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Jack responds, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

 

“Well you know how we have that little gag with the  _‘yo marry me’_  poster,” Eric pushes on, avoiding Jack’s eyes and focusing on mixing the filling for Shitty’s blueberry pie.

 

“Uh-huh,” Jack nods, sounding thoroughly confused.

 

“Well I was just thinkin’…I’m the only one who ain’t done it yet and I want to but I really don’t want to make anythin’ weird or you thinkin’ I’m serious or somethin’.  Not that I’m sayin’ I wouldn’t want to marry you!  It just ain’t the time and—”

 

Eric’s nervous prattling comes to a halt when Jack presses up behind him, his arms looping around Eric’s waist.

 

“I think it’d be funny,” Jack murmurs softly into Eric’s neck.  “You know, my actual boyfriend holding up the poster that says ‘marry me Jack’.”

 

“So it ain’t gonna be weird?” Eric asks.

 

“No Eric, it’ll be great,” Jack says, pressing a kiss into his jaw.

 

“Mmmm,” Eric groans quietly, because Jack  _knows_  how that drives him crazy.  “Jack—Jack, I’ve got a pie to finish and you have to leave soon.”

 

Jack whines softly.

 

“Later sweetheart, okay?” Eric says, turning around to give Jack a gentle kiss on the lips.

_“Fine,”_  Jack pouts, full of attitude, and Eric shoves him playfully in response.

****************************************************************************************************

 

When Eric meets the guys at the arena later, the first thing he does is find Shitty.  He has an arm around Lardo, as he stands with the sign.

 

“I’m gonna do it tonight,” Eric says firmly, plucking the sign away from Shitty’s grasp.

 

Shitty’s face lights up.  “Bits, you glorious motherfucker!  It’s about damn time you did!” he exclaims, using his free arm to pull Eric into a headlock.

 

“Alright, alright!” Eric giggles, struggling half-heartedly against Shitty.

 

“Jack is definitely going to be surprised,” Lardo remarks once Shitty is done rough housing with Eric.

 

“Oh, I already asked him ‘bout it,” Eric shrugs.  “He thinks it’ll be funny.”

 

“Bits,  _brah_ ,” Shitty sighs.  “You just took ninety-fucking-five percent of my fun out of this.”

 

“ _Listen_.  I wasn’t about to make Jack freak out for a game, wonderin’ what I was doin’,” Eric scolds, waggling his finger at Shitty for effect.

 

“Bitty—”

 

“You want Jack to play a bad game?” Eric questions.

 

Shitty deflates.  “Okay brah, you’re right.”

 

“You better believe I am.”

 

Shitty still mopes the whole walk in.

 

When they take their seats, Eric watches as the people around them start to buzz excitedly, pointing at the sign.  Eric has no idea why, but over the last two seasons, the poster has become something of a legend to Falconers’ fans.  The Falconers twitter account tweets about it every time it’s there.  It’s been featured on Sportscenter ( _Sportscenter!_ ).  The afternoon of every home game, Eric gets thousands of tweets, asking if the Samwell team is going to be at the game.  Everyone clamors for the chance to see the mythical  _“Yo marry me Jack Zimmermann”_  poster.

 

To his left, he spots a cameraman giving him a thumbs up, letting Eric know that he’s the one responsible for getting the shot.

 

So when the moment comes, Eric turns and holds the poster up.  He doesn’t scream.  He doesn’t wave it around.  He doesn’t jump up and down.  He sits there quietly, holding it up for everyone to see as he blushes brightly.  When the public address announcer alerts the crowd, Jack turns and looks.  Even though he told Jack ahead of time, Jack still looks surprised, and even trips, something Eric’s never seen him do on skates.

 

Jack regains his balance and skates over to the glass where Eric is sitting.  Through his visor, Eric can see that Jack’s face is as red as a tomato.  The jumbotron screen splits, showing the two of them side-by-side as the whole arena roars.

 

Jack, breaking with the tradition established since the third game the sign came to, pulls his helmet and a glove off momentarily, softly blowing Eric a kiss.

 

Eric feigns catching it, smiling shyly.  For something happening in front of nearly 18,000 people, it’s a surprisingly intimate moment.

 

Then the whistle blows and Jack jams his helmet back on, heading to the face-off, while the crowds raucous cheering carries on.  Eric lowers the sign, and the game carries on.

 

Jack scores a goal almost immediately after.

****************************************************************************************************

They don’t talk about it when the first meet up at the car, waiting until later, when they’re curled up in bed.

 

“I can’t believe you knew it was comin’ and you still were surprised,” Eric says, snuggling his head into the crook of Jack’s neck.  “I got to see you trip on skates.”

 

“You saw that, huh?” Jack blushes.

 

“’Course I did,” Eric chuckles.  “I was watchin’ you the whole time.”

 

“I just…I wasn’t ready for what it would look like.”

 

“I wasn’t ready for what it would feel like, dear  _Lord_ ,” Eric sighs.  “All those eyes on you and me?  My heart was poundin’ so hard!”

 

“Yeah,” Jack replies, nuzzling his nose in Eric’s hair.

 

“But I…I liked doin’ it,” Eric says, grinning slightly.

 

“I did too,” Jack mumbles.  “I scored a goal right after.”

_“Jack!”_  Eric says, trying to sound indignant, and giggling instead.  “’Course you’d make it ‘bout hockey!”

 

“What can I say?” Jack yawns, the corner of his mouth turning up.  “It’s part of my programming.”

 

“Well, is this part of your programmin’?” Eric teases, stretching up to kiss Jack.

 

“Oh yeah,” Jack smiles.  After a few minutes of kissing, Jack pulls away.  “Would you keep doing it?”

 

Eric startles.  “What?  The poster?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Certainly honey.”

_And maybe one day I’ll mean it, too_ , Eric thinks.

* * *

 

**v. Jack**

And so the tradition of the sign changes after that night.  Instead of only coming to games with the Samwell boys, it comes with Eric to every home game for the next three years.  When Jack comes out and they make their relationship public, Eric becomes a minor celebrity, an attraction of sorts at games.  Everyone wants their moment with Jack’s boyfriend, the one holding the  _“Yo marry me Jack Zimmermann”_  poster.

 

At the end of that third year, Jack’s fifth season in the NHL, Providence makes it to the Stanley Cup finals.  It’s a hard-fought series, played against none other than Kent Parson and the Las Vegas Aces, and it’s come down to Game 7, played on Providence’s home ice.

 

The whole Samwell gang flies in from all corners of the world to watch Jack play in the most important game of his career.  Eric is thankful, because right now, he’s just a giant bundle of nerves.  He goes through the routine, taking selfies with the poster and signing autographs.

 

They go through the whole ordeal at its usual time, right before the second period starts.  Eric holds up the sign, they show him and Jack on the jumbotron, Jack blows him a kiss, the crowd cheers, and Jack starts the period on fire, almost single-handedly turning a 1-0 deficit into a 2-1 lead.

 

But with less than a minute in the third period, Kent scores a goal and ties the game, 2-2, taking the wind right out from underneath Providence’s wings.  And Eric knows the drill; in game close late into the third, he’s called upon to give Providence (well, Jack, really) the spark to pull it out in the end.

 

And it works; Jack puts the game winner in the back of the net with just 7.3 seconds to spare.  Jack’s teammates dogpile him on the ice, and the guys do the same to Eric in the stands.  Eric cries, because Jack once told him this was all he’s ever wanted to do since his overdose nearly 15 years ago.  He just wanted to play hockey and win a Stanley Cup.  He’s done that, and Eric so overwhelmingly happy for Jack.  It’s probably the second best moment of his life, after the time Jack kissed him and he realized that he was going to get his chance with Jack.

 

He’s still crying when the clock runs to zeros.  Confetti floats down on the arena, and Eric clings to his friends, and he doesn’t realize he’s being carried out onto the ice until they set his feet down firmly on it.

 

And amidst the stray bits of confetti still falling, and the pandemonium of players celebrating around them, there they are, just the two of them, nothing in between.

 

Jack is smiling softly, and Eric is surprised to see that Jack isn’t cradling the Cup.  Instead, he’s holding a small, white poster with big, bold, black lettering.  Eric swipes at his eyes, clearing his vision enough so he can read it.

**Yo marry me Eric Bittle**

 

Eric gasps, his hands flying up to cover his mouth, tears beginning to stream down his face again.  It’s—one day, Eric imagined going out on the ice, carrying  _his_  sign, saying to Jack “For real this time.”  He—oh  _Lord_ , he’d never considered that Jack might do it first.  That Jack would say no to being the first to hold the Stanley Cup, the thing he’s worked his whole life to get, in favor of Eric.  In favor of asking Eric to  _marry him_.

 

Eric feels someone gently push him, and he turns around to see Lardo nodding towards Jack.  Eric doesn’t need to be told twice.  He takes off running, going as fast as the ice will let him, his sneakers slipping and sliding the whole way.  He bumps into Jack, and Jack drops his sign, using his hands to steady Eric.  Eric is about to open his mouth to say yes, when Jack drops to one knee, and he gasps again as Shitty hands Jack a small felt box.

 

“Eric,” Jack says, smiling, his gaze gentle and almost unbearably fond.  “I used to say that winning the Stanley Cup was all I ever wanted to do.  But for three years, I’ve gone out on the ice and I’ve seen you with a sign, asking me to marry you.  And every time I thought about it, that was what gave me the most peace.  Not winning the Stanley Cup.  But spending the rest of my life with you, as your husband.  This whole series, it’s been clear to me that winning the Stanley Cup doesn’t mean anything anymore.  Not without you by my side.  So, to quote the words I’ve been seeing for almost five years…yo, marry me Eric Bittle.”

 

Eric can hardly speak, he’s so overwhelmed.  “Y-yes!  Oh Lord, yes!” he manages to choke out as he nods his head rapidly.

 

Jack quickly slips the ring on his finger and then stands up, scooping Eric up and cradling him like he would the Cup.  They kiss in front of the whole arena, everyone cheering louder than they ever did when Eric held up his sign.

* * *

 

**+1.**

They don’t wait long to have the wedding, and by the time the next season rolls around, the old  _‘Yo marry me Jack Zimmermann’_  sign has gone into its permanent retirement.  In its place, there’s a new sign:

**I married Jack Zimmermann!**

**Author's Note:**

> Coming...some time in the near future...what happened in Vegas ;)
> 
> UPDATE: [tronnies-art-blog](http://tronnies-art-blog.tumblr.com/) just drew art for this fic and it'S SO BEAUTIFUL I'M SCREAMING (it's [here](http://tronnies-art-blog.tumblr.com/post/142044050336/so-this-fic-basically-blindsided-me-with-cute-and) GO LOOK AT IT AND CRY)
> 
> UPDATE #2: [thejohnwatson](http://thejohnwatson.tumblr.com) alsO DREW FANART OF THIS??????? OMFG I LOVE [IT](http://thejohnhwatson.tumblr.com/post/144175014076/justlookfrightened-won-my-follower-giveaway) AND I LOVE Y'ALL'S RESPONSE TO THIS FIC THANK <333


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